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June 15th, 2001
It's cold in the care home, but not too bad. Nothing like the weather outside that was hot enough to fry an egg, yet Abbacchio insisted on long sleeves. Good thing too or else he'd be shivering and he'd look even more uncomfortable in this little chair.
The staff told him she was outside in the garden, and would be back in about ten minutes. Abbacchio could have joined her, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to scare her outside.
Or at least that's the excuse he made up in his head.
Instead Abbacchio waited in this little wooden chair, thinking of what to say. He watched her come in with her caregiver Mia, she hadn't noticed him as she went to her room chatting away with the lady. Good, today might be one of her better days. Abbacchio waited a bit before standing up to go to her door. He took a breath, gathering himself before opening it. Mia noticed him first, smiling before tapping her charge on the shoulder. “Mrs. Rochelle, you have a guest.”
She turned to him, and Abbacchio's heart clenched. He looked so much like her: wispy white hair (though hers was cut short), two-toned eyes just like his, and the same hooked nose. It was funny, how he looked so much like her. Abbacchio knew what to expect. She probably wouldn't remember him, but again, he didn't want to scare her. “Hello, I'm-”
“It's been a while, Leone.” She remembered. Abbacchio smiled, relieved.
“Hi mom.”
Mia left them and Abbacchio sat down. His mother smiled, not all there but here enough to remember her son, and the time that had passed. “I promised you I'd forget you last, didn't I?” She joked. “Though I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't remember what year it is.”
“It's 2001.”
“Ah! Right. Right.” His mother tapped her chin, trying to jog her memory. He was surprised that she didn't ask him where he had been, or why it took so long for him to see her again. But he supposes that's how she's always been: someone who let Abbacchio explore on his own and come back to her when he was ready. Abbacchio let her try to sort herself out, and he chuckled when she gave up, waving her hand. “Oh whatever. Year shmear, it's been forever since we've seen each other; let's bounce around topics until we stop being awkward, how is being an officer treating you?”
Right out the gate, she's forgotten that, too. Abbacchio took a breath and pulled up his hair to busy himself. “I don't have that job anymore, remember mom?”
Her brows furrowed. “You're not working there? You wanted to be an officer all your life, why did you quit?”
“I didn't quit,” Abbacchio looked away, “I was removed.”
“You got fired?! ” His mother looked appalled. “My straight A, never missed more than two days of school, helped old ladies cross the street, got suspended for beating up his bully Leone got fired from being an officer? How do you even get fired here in Napoli? None of them even do their job, you couldn't have done anything awful.”
Abbacchio clenched his fist. What would be the point in telling her if she would just forget again? But she wouldn't leave him alone if he didn't answer her. After steeling himself, he spoke. “I took bribes, got my partner killed. The guy I shot snitched on me so my precinct saved their ass by throwing me out.”
His mom looked even worse. “ What ?! Oh Leone that's horrible.”
“Which part? Me taking bribes, me getting my partner killed, or that they threw me out?”
“All of it! Nobody is immune to bribes when everyone around you is taking them, and I'm not surprised that they would cover their asses so fast. But your partner… Leone I'm so sorry. How have you been handling that? Was it recent?”
He shook his head. “No, it was back in ‘98…”
“Oh, Leo. Have you gone to someone to talk about it? Carrying a burden like that without knowing how to cope with it isn't something you need to do.”
Abbacchio gave her a look. “Stop psychoanalyzing me. No I'm not in therapy and no I'm not going.”
“You should! Lord knows you need it!”
“I don't…” He sighed, he knows he needs it. “I don't think I'm ready for it. Not every therapist is like you.” Although his mom could never be his therapist even when she was of completely sound mind for obvious reasons, Abbacchio would want someone like her. She actually cared about the people who came to her for help. But Abbacchio knew that most therapists weren't like that, and he'd be damned if he's going to hop around until he finds the right one.
His mother conceded, leaning back and nodding. “I understand, but I have to ask: have you started moving on?”
He nodded. “I've had my time to grieve, pick up the pieces and be a better person. Trust me, I'm a lot better now.”
She smiled. “Great. Then you won't mind me doing this,” She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. “Thank you God for not letting Leone be a cop forever.”
He couldn't help but start laughing at her brazen behaviour. “Mom!”
“I know I supported you in every endeavour but you know I never wanted you to be a cop! I hate them!” It was true. Many people who knew his parents only knew one version of them. His father: a respectable fireman. And his mother: a top tier intelligent woman with a PhD. But only a few people knew the other side of them: the cop hating, riot attending, weed smoking, anti-capitalists that they were. Abbacchio knew the sides of his parents very well, considering they had him at 18 and 20 and were determined to be involved in his life. In fact, it was his mom who took him to his first protest when he was six. That being said Abbacchio didn't ever see the weed smoking version of them, that was never allowed in the house.
“I wanted to be one of the good ones.” Abbacchio explained, just as he did all those years ago.
His mother smiled at him. “You are one of the good ones. Now, onto the next topic! What are you up to now? You started and ended your cop career in ‘98 and you're wearing one of those rich brands or another, so either you found a rich oil baron or a new career path.”
Abbacchio laughed at his mother’s observation (he realized this time how much he missed laughing with her). “There's a bit of a story surrounding my job now. If you have the time I can tell you-”
She cut him off with a scoff. “If I have the time- Leone all I have is time! I'm stuck in an old folks home at 41; it's either you or hang with Joan and her recently replaced hip. I'll pick you every time since I'm cursed to be here for eternity.” Abbacchio loved these days, where she was mostly herself. When they could have conversations as if everything was the same as it was.
“You got yourself placed here. Remember your impromptu trip to Venezia?”
His mother’s face turned red. “Well maybe I wanted to go there! It was getting stuffy in the first place you had me in. We didn't have field trips there the way we do here.”
“You were insisting that everyone trying to help you was holding you hostage and that there were microplastics in your water-”
“The second one is true!”
“You thought they were placed there by weird creatures that you kept seeing around.” Abbacchio was able to joke about that very worrying situation due to it being two years past them. As long as he left out the part where she cursed Abbacchio out and claimed him to not be her son. Abbacchio cried for a long time after that, but he's come to accept that those are things that will happen. Doesn't make them any less painful, though. The only bright side is that when his mother is of sound mind, then joking is better than crying about the reality of her world slipping away bit by bit. “If you forgot why you had to go to elderly prison, then that's more proof that you should be in elderly prison. We can discuss parole when you look better.”
She glared. “Ex-cop.”
“Half a brain.”
“Hot Topic reject.”
“Widow.”
His mother gasped, but her fake shock turned into a grin. “Fatherless!” Abbacchio opened his mouth to retort with something else, but he couldn't think of anything worse than what his mother had just dished out to him. She clapped her hands together. “Ha! I win!”
Abbacchio just rolled his eyes, “You act like my kids.”
Oh shit.
“Kids?!” His mother looked like she damn near had a heart attack. “You didn't think to open with the fact that you have children?!”
“Calm down I don't-”
“Who did you knock up?!”
“Mom I'm-”
“I forgot! You like men.” She looked at him worriedly. “Leone, I told you not to do what I did! I love you to pieces but I wish I had you at thirty! Well not really because then you would be a teenager and dealing with me-”
“Mama!” Abbacchio called so she stopped rambling. “Let me tell you my story and it'll clear up everything.” She quieted down and nodded, eyes trained on her son. “Okay do you remember-”
“If this is you setting up a joke, stop now.”
Abbacchio gave her an unimpressed look. “How long until you let me talk?”
“Alright alright carry on. Who am I trying to remember?”
“Back when I was still a cop and even when I was in the academy there was this guy. I told you I didn't know his name at the time whenever I brought him up but he was a gangster, and the rumour was that he had been one since he was little.” His mother didn't seem to remember, but listened intently. “I got the chance to arrest him once, nothing stuck though and he was out by the end of the day.”
His mom had a smirk on her face. “Was he cute?”
“God he was so good looking it pissed me off. I wanted to wring his stupid neck cause he knew none of the charges would stick and all he'd do was smile while I was stressed as hell. I didn't make it fun for him though - especially because he was younger than me - and I prolonged everything so he was stuck at the station until damn near midnight.”
“Ooh I remember those days. I used to be stuck in stations till the next day whenever I went out. Your father threatened to lock me in the house; said that I'd get myself into trouble if he didn't.”
“You and him would get along, both of you make reckless impromptu decisions. When I had to let him go, he told me he thought I was interesting. Not like the rest and if I ever needed help, then he wouldn't mind giving me a hand. I almost laughed in his face, cause what would I need from a gangster?” Abbacchio sighed. “But then I… you know… lost my position. I ended up in the worst place mentally that I had ever been in my entire life.” Abbacchio decided to spare his mother the details. “And not even three months later, who would find me other than that damn gangster? He offered me a job, and a reason to live on more or less. Even if the reason was to work, it was a reason.”
“So you took it.”
“Of course. Then I met his kid - not biological!” He quickly said before she could cut him off again. “A kid he had recruited to work for him.”
“A child? In that life? Leone…”
“I know how it sounds and looks and all, but I wouldn't be with him if he was the type to hurt kids. He took care of that kid like he'd known him his whole life. I've seen him risk it all for that kid, and the others.”
“There's more?”
“Four others and they ended up becoming my kids, too.”
“And you treat them well?”
“I didn't realize how much I could care for someone until I met all of them, as stupid as that sounds.” Fuck. If Abbacchio thinks about them too much he'll remember how much he misses Fugo. “Some of ‘em are still figuring out what they want to do.”
“That's kids for ya,” his mom leaned back in her chair, “and as parents, you just have to support them even when they stumble.”
Abbacchio coughed. “Parent? No no I'm not like- I'm just like a legal guardian thing.”
“Leone, you call them your kids and you just admitted that you care about them.”
“That's different… I mean…” What did Abbacchio mean? “I call them my kids because they are kids and we live in the same place so by proxy they are mine.”
Abbacchio watched his mom laugh. “If you say so, I'll let you leave it at that. But carry on with your story; it's clear you and that gangster are dating. Or is this a you took the kids situation?”
“No mom, we're still together. Been together since ‘99.” And hopefully they'll be together forever. “But I'm telling you all of this because I had a near death experience two months ago. I got really hurt trying to do what was right, and I realized I never know when our time is going to be up. And before then I wanted to make things right by visiting you, which I'll be doing more by the way. The second thing is I wanted you to meet somebody.”
Abbacchio watched her eyes light up, “Is it him? Is that why you didn't say his name? Is he out there?”
“Please be normal when I bring him in.”
“I am a perfectly normal crazy woman, thank you!”
Abbacchio rolled his eyes and stood up and left the room. Leaning against the wall was his damn gangster. “She sounds like a treat.”
“Don't encourage her.” Abbacchio pecked Bucciarati’s lips. “Ready?” Bucciarati nodded and they walked in together. Abbacchio wasn't worried, everyone loved Bruno.
His mother gasped when she laid eyes on him, before breaking into a smile. She stood up and walked over to them. “Ah, you look lovely.”
Bucciarati froze for a moment, stunned by the compliment. Abbacchio could tell he wasn't used to someone saying that to him right out the gate. His boyfriend smiled. “Well you're looking lovely yourself, Mrs. Abbacchio. My name is Bruno Bucciarati, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Believe me, to get to talk to someone that still has all their teeth and isn't one of the nurses makes the pleasure all mine. And please, just call me Rochelle.”
“Rochelle?” A quirk of Bucciarati's eyebrow. “Is that French?”
“I am from Dijon.”
“Ah, Dijon!” Bucciarati replied in French. Abbacchio stared at his boyfriend. How long has he been able to speak French? That's three languages other than Italian. “I've wanted to go there! I am…. how do you say it… very busy.” He smiled. “You'll have to excuse me, all the French I know is what I have learned listening to others. I'm sure it was no good.”
“Oh please, I'm not a pretentious Frenchwoman, Bruno. I've lived in Italy since I was a teenager. Now sit, sit! Leone, bring another chair for yourself.”
“Can't you sit on the bed?”
“Why would I want to sit on my bed? And move my table! Oh and can you ask Mia if she is out there for three cups of tea?” Abbacchio grumbled. “I bring in one new person and now you're bossing me around-” He got bonked in the head by one of her slippers.
“I've got the table and chair, Abbacchio.” Bucciarati reassured him, but Abbacchio wasn't convinced to leave them alone. Not by him, but by his mother.
He stared at him. “Be. Normal.”
“I am normal!” The moment that Abbacchio left her room, he overheard her go “so what's it like being a gangster?” He sighed, and went to go get her tea.
Mia, her caregiver, was talking to one of her coworkers. When she spotted Abbacchio, she smiled. “Your boyfriend was a treat. All the people out here loved him.”
“All elderly people love Bucciarati. Can I have some tea?”
“Let me make some, come with me.” She led Abbacchio to the kitchen, where she put a kettle on. Abbacchio likes Mia, she was her mother’s caregiver at the first place Abbacchio left her, and had joined her even now in “elderly prison”.
“How is she?”
“She still has plenty lot of good days but the bad ones… they're quite rough. Luckily the bad days are still few and far between, and as you can see she's still very cognitive. She gets upset quickly though when she forgets little things like the date, or the name of others.”
Abbacchio nodded, sighing. He knows there is no cure for her, and that if her MCI turns out to be Alzheimer’s, then at most he has maybe eighteen or so years with her left. He cried about it when he was eighteen, he isn't going to lose it again now. What he needed to do was be there for her as best he could.
“Do you have any plans for her, Abbacchio? You know she won't want to be here for much longer. A year and a half here has done her good, but she is still capable of doing a lot for herself.” He appreciates that Mia didn't ask him where he's been for the last few years. (Although, a part of that was most likely due to her sister being a member of Passione.)
“But I'm not able to take care of her, and I can't ask you to take care of her full time. If she isn't in a care center, she would need someone with her at home if things get worse.”
“Well, have you ever tried asking me?” Mia smiled, taking the kettle off and preparing the tea. “Mrs. Rochelle is an interesting person, and she gets along with more staff than just me. I know a few of us who wouldn't mind working in shifts for her.”
Abbacchio widened his eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.” She handed Abbacchio the teapot and cups. “But we can talk more about that later. Don't let her yell at you for letting the tea get cold.” Abbacchio nodded. He'd think about Mia's offer. He would have to make sure his mother can obtain parole first and foremost.
Returning to her room, Abbacchio nudged the door open with his foot. His mother and Bucciarati were sitting at the table and talking up a storm with his mother holding a book. She looked at Bucciarati in disbelief. “I don't think we know the same person! That doesn't sound like my boy at all!”
“Why are you two talking about me-” Abbacchio stopped halfway through setting down the tea. The book his mom was holding was a photo album. “Mom! S'il te plaît! ”
“I'm catching up on your lore! You are reportedly a grump in this new millennia.”
Abbacchio looked towards Bucciarati as he sat down. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing that wasn't true.” Bucciarati sipped his tea before pointing at the album. “I can't believe you used to wear something other than black or purple.” He was referring to a photo of Abbacchio when he was younger. His hair was cut short, so he must have recently graduated high school and was preparing to go to the academy. He was posing with a group of friends in a yellow and pink hoodie with red lipstick on.
“I think he was the only person on planet earth who has ever had the opposite of an edgy phase. He spent his entire life in dark clothes only to decide that he wanted to branch out for a year and a half. I think the whole becoming a cop thing had something to do with it. But he was always a sweetheart, everyone knew that the kid in all black was nicer than he looked.”
“He's still nicer than he looks now.” Bruno looked over at Abbacchio, who wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “I do have to wonder what he looked like as a kid, though.”
“Oh I have tons of those.”
“Please don't.”
“What? You were a cute kid!” His mother ignored his pleas and flipped through the album. “This one is from when he was nine.” She handed the picture to Bucciarati, who looked surprised.
“I know you said your hair grows really fast, but dio mio." Abbacchio looked over at the picture. He was standing in front of a swing set, a black t-shirt and black shorts on. He was holding a baby chicken in his hands, but what stood out most was his hair. It was down to his ankles, some of it falling in front of his face. "How did you even manage with all of that hair?”
“He would kick and scream whenever we tried to get him to cut it, and only ended up chopping it after he decided he wanted to go to the academy. He donated all of it.”
“Awww.”
“Don't ‘awww’ at me,” Abbacchio murmured, “it's embarrassing.”
“I'll photocopy you one, B…” She stopped. Her eyebrows furrowed. Oh. “I swear I have been using your name this entire time. Give me a moment.
Bucciarati smiled softly. “My name is-”
“Well don't tell me! I'll remember on my own!” She snapped at him suddenly. Bucciarati looked warily at Abbacchio, who held his hand under the table.
“It's okay, mom. If you don't remember-”
“I will remember! I don't forget I-” Her hands shook as her ears turned red. She was embarrassed, upset. And when she gets upset, she gets even worse. “Oh now why don't I…” She ran a hand through her short hair. When she looked back up at Abbacchio, she looked lost. Abbacchio didn't like that face, he didn't want to see it again.
He took a breath. “Mom. Do you remember where you are?”
“Mother? No, no you have me mistaken for someone else.” She chuckled, wary. “Did I come to visit you? Where am- who are you again?” Her eyes went back and forth between him and Bucciarati.
Abbacchio was calm. “That is Bruno, and I'm Leone. Leone Abbacchio. I'm your son.”
His mother did not like what he said. “No. No you're not!”
That was what Abbacchio prayed not to ever hear again. “I am, mom.”
“No, my son is thirteen!” She stood up and backed away from the table. “Where is my son?!”
Abbacchio took a second for himself, before calling her out. “Moody Blues.” She manifested with ease, a low tone playing (she always gets sad when she sees their mother like this) before searching through her tracks.
Something that Abbacchio learned he could do with Moody Blues is choose seven "tracks” from his life to have her be immediately able to replay. The “tracks” are a few minutes of anything that he has ever said or done, or something that has ever been said or done to him. He set all seven of them up for moments like these. “Let's jam.”
Words began to come through Moody Blues's speakers. It was a thirteen year old Abbacchio speaking in French. “Mom! How do I make buccellati again? I forgot!”
His mother stopped before what would have been a very bad meltdown. “Leone?” A disembodied voice might scare a normal person, but his mother was definitely addressing the made up little Leone that existed behind her eyes right now. Moody Blues could calm her down like this.
He looked over at Bucciarati and whispered. “I would turn Moody Blues into me, but it would scare the hell out of her to see two Abbacchios when she comes back around, and I do not want to explain Stands to her. I'm sorry you had to see her like this.”
“It's okay.” Bucciarati whispered back, reassurance on his face. “You're here and helping her through it. You're a good son, Abbacchio.” Bucciarati squeezed his hand while Moody Blues continued to help their mother calm back down.
Eventually, she sat back in her chair, and seemed to regain herself. Moody Blues stopped playing the track, but Abbacchio didn't call her back just in case. “Mom?”
Her hands banged on the table. “Dammit! Dammit!” She put her head in her hands. “What am I doing?” She was embarrassed, her ears were still bright red.
“You got confused, but it's alright.” Abbacchio reassured her quickly. “It wasn't too long, and everything is fine now! See, no one was hurt and nobody is mad at you!”
“But now I'm seeing things! I'm hallucinating again!”
Oh shit. Abbacchio has never been here when she hallucinated, only being told about it from Mia. “What are you seeing?”
“A purple monster and it… it's standing right next to you.” Abbacchio widened his eyes, and looked towards Bucciarati. Moody Blues clearly did not see anything wrong with suddenly being visible, and beeped and waved towards their mother. The woman widened her eyes, pointing at them. “It… it… it's moving. It's waving.” Abbacchio called his Stand back, and his mother let out a sigh of relief. “It disappeared.” She slumped down. “Leone, I am losing myself. You bringing me here was probably a good thing, even if I wish it was not.”
“Mom no it's not-” Abbacchio stopped himself. She will think of herself as even crazier if he doesn't explain, but to say that Stands exist opens up another much more dangerous can of worms. Mainly because now that she can see them, that means she also has a Stand.
Bucciarati put a hand on his knee, and gave him a nod. Both options are bad, but only one of them requires him having to lie to his mother. “You're not hallucinating, mom.” Abbacchio brought Moody Blues back out. “This is Moody Blues, she is my Stand. Please don't scream.”
“A- A what? Why-” She looked unbelievably confused, but less upset now that she was told she was not hallucinating. “Are you losing your mind, too?”
“No, Moody Blues is a very real thing. Bruno can see her.”
His mother looked at the other man. “You too?!”
“Yes, because I have one of my own.” He summoned Sticky Fingers, who hovered right by his user. Moody Blues waved to him, but deflated when she saw that Bucciarati had control over Sticky right now, and wasn't letting him move anywhere. “This is Sticky Fingers, my Stand. You have one as well, as only Stand Users can see other Stands.” Bucciarati has always been better at explaining Stands than Abbacchio has, so he let him take the reins.
“So this is real? What I'm seeing, what I've been seeing, it was all real?”
“Been seeing?” Bucciarati raised an eyebrow, “Mrs. Rochelle, when did you begin seeing Stands?”
She tapped her chin, thinking. “Ah when was it…? It was before Jinny's grandson visited her but before Barbara passed… oh! Maybe a year and a half ago now?”
Abbacchio almost passed out. “You have been seeing Stands for over a year?!”
“I thought I was going mad! Mia took me to the city and I saw these two kids being chased by somebody. One of them had a toy plane above him with weird yellow things sitting on it! I practically ran after them but when they turned the corner… they were gone! It was like the two of them disappeared through a wall! Even the guy chasing them was confused! I felt so embarrassed for making Mia have to chase me down.”
Abbacchio slowly turned towards Bucciarati. “Disappeared through a wall?” He echoed his mother’s words, staring at the only Stand User he knows that matches that crime scene. “A toy plane and six yellow things?” Abbacchio is going to have a heart attack.
“My apologies, Mrs. Rochelle,” Bucciarati looked to his Stand, “the disappearance was most likely my doing, and the two boys running were my kids. I'm sorry that you had to see that-”
“I saw my grandchildren and didn't even know it?!” His mother seemed to somehow consider that more serious than seeing soul ghosts?! When Abbacchio first saw Moody Blues he tried to run away from her - "What are they like?” - whereas his mother did not care now that she had discovered Stands.
“Maybe we should take care of the Stand thing first.” Abbacchio tried to bring her back on track. “Have you seen your own Stand yet?”
His mother shook her head. “If I have a ghost- er a Stand of my own, then whatever it is, I've never seen it.” She looked around her room. “Is it hiding?”
Bucciarati spoke, “Sometimes, Stands don't manifest themselves until they're needed. We have a member who didn't manifest her Stand until she was in a dire situation. Hopefully yours is not one that requires you to be in trouble for it to reveal itself.”
“And if it is, do not get yourself into trouble. Don't start any trouble with it, either.” Abbacchio added.
His mother made a face. “Oh you act like I'm someone who runs around and gets myself into messes! I'll have you know my bad days are still rare enough!”
“I'm talking about your fully conscious bad decisions.”
“When do those ever happen?” Abbacchio pointed at himself. “You don't count, you were the best bad decision!”
“Should I tell Bruno about the time you almost punched your professor a mere month before you got your PhD? Or the time you almost punched my history teacher? Or oh I don't know the time you got so pissed at dad you left your phone at the house and hopped on a plane back to France?!”
His mother seemed to not be phased by any of that. “Well I wouldn't take back two of those things, your father made me madder than a bull.”
Abbacchio was about to retort that most people go over to a friend’s house and not a completely different country when he heard Bucciarati laughing softly behind his hand. “Sorry I just-” He stopped himself before pointing at the two other people in the room, “I can see where Abbacchio gets his talent for going back and forth. You two are so much alike; it's amusing.”
“Yeah well,” Abbacchio rolled his eyes, “I'm glad I'm lacking her complete disregard for danger.”
“Oh I am not taking anything from a Mafioso about danger!” His mother cut back in. “I'm sure you're always patching yourselves up and looking over your shoulders.”
Did Abbacchio spy a hint of worry?
“Mom, I'm fine.” He reassured her. “I was doing all of that when I was a cop, anyway. At least now I'm doing it with actual reliable people.” He had no intentions of getting sappy about those idiots back home for even a second, because lord knows Bucciarati will tell them and nobody needs to know that Abbacchio has a heart. “You don't need to worry about me.”
“I am your mother, I worry about you all the time. And now that there are other people with these… Stands that could hurt you, I'm going to worry even more.”
“You do know I can hold my own, right?”
“Yeah but your Stand can't move while rewinding! What if another Stand attacks you?” His mother widened her eyes and put a hand over her mouth. “Why do I know that?”
Why and how does she know that? Neither he nor Bucciarati have mentioned any of their Stands abilities, and most definitely not his weakness!
And then Abbacchio felt something on his shoulder. He saw nothing when he looked, but looked over to Moody Blues, who seemed to be unaware of anything amiss. There was something on her shoulder, something that looked like a bird. It was all white, but with long floppy ears - one red and one blue. Its eyes were humanoid, large, and glowing. It looked like it had the nose and mouth of a cat. Creepy as hell is what it was.
And then it squeaked. “Choopapoo!” Moody Blues let out a series of distressed beeps as they tried to shake off the Stand. Abbacchio calmed his girl down as Bucciarati quickly picked up the Stand. It looked towards Abbacchio’s mother and squeaked again, “Choopapoo!”
“Is that…” She pointed at the little thing, “Is that mine?”
Bucciarati nodded, “I believe so, ma'am. It seemed to have activated when touching Moody Blues.” It hopped out of Bucciarati's hands and waddled over to her with its little bird-like legs.
His mother looked down at it. “You told me all of those things about Moody Blues?”
“Choopapoo!”
“I don't know what that means.”
“Perhaps your Stand can tell you the things you want to know?” Bucciarati offered, “You were confused and worried about Stands, and it told you about Abbacchio's Moody Blues.”
“It gathers information.” Abbacchio thought aloud. “Try it on a nonliving item, like this table.”
His mother nodded and pointed at the table. “Go to it.” Her Stand stared up at her, confused. "Go to the table!” It remained confused, waiting for something that it understood.
Ah, Abbacchio realized what was happening. It's like Moody Blues; it needs specific instructions starting out. “If I'm right and this thing gathers information, you need to tell it that you want to learn.” Abbacchio could remember when he was still learning to use his Stand and they would stare at him condescendingly (Moody Blues does not understand the concept of being condescending) because he asked for a ‘few days ago’ instead of what he specifically needed, and he was sure his mother would be making those mistakes as well.
“I want to learn about the table.” Her Stand finally understood, waddling over to the table and flapping its wings to sit on top of it. Its eyes began to glow purple, and then his mom spoke. “This table is made of birch wood, and was manufactured in Roma in 1992… tables are boring. You can stop talking now.” Its eyes stopped glowing and it looked back towards its user.
His mother tilted her head. “It's odd.” It tried to fly into her lap, but its wings flapped nervously, as if it was still trying to understand itself. It's moving of its own will, but doesn't seem to grasp what it is. Perhaps that is because of the mind of its user.
“All Stands are a bit odd,” Abbacchio said, “but that's what makes them perfect for their user.” At his words, Moody Blues beeped, and he rolled his eyes. “I'm not calling you perfect, egomaniac.”
“Your Stand can talk? Mine keeps saying Choopapoo.”
“You learn to understand them.” Abbacchio answered. “They all have their own ways to talk, some of them don't talk at all and some of them talk just like people do. If Mood isn't using her replays to talk, she uses her radio system like such:” Abbacchio gave her a nod, “Chat the way you always do since you love to talk.”
Abbacchio was met with a series of beeps and very rude radio noises. “‘You never talk so I'm doing it for you, it's not like you ever let me express myself. Also hi mom.’ That's what she said.”
“She is very expressive!” His mother grinned. “How interesting!”
“She isn't supposed to be like this. They are supposed to just do what I say, but I got saddled with this rubbery mess.” He pinched their cheek, ignoring the feeling that was mimicked on his own.
“Then they're like you; someone who plays by their own rules.” His mother spoke to Moody Blues. “Keep giving him a hard time, ‘kay?”
“I like her more than you.”
“I'll sell you for five Lira.” Abbacchio muttered at her.
“Ooh what did she say next?” Both his mother and her Stand looked expectantly for the translation.
“They want to trade users clearly. I would happily give her up since you also like to talk-” He dodged the second shoe thrown at him, “but then their husband would start crying and that would be a whole thing.”
“You're married?!”
“No. Our Stands are.” Abbacchio said that as if it made total sense. “It takes everything in me to make sure she doesn't grab him whenever they're both out.”
“Stands aren't supposed to have any feelings like this,” Bruno added to try and explain, “so they don't really get dating or… the natural progression of relationships.”
His mother nodded. “So since your Stands are married, I'm not wrong to assume that you two want to get married?”
Moody Blues and Sticky Fingers stared at each other, then their users, who were also staring at each other and blushing madly. “What- we aren't even thinking about it- we're really busy-” Abbacchio gave up and switched topics while he was as red as a beet, “You need to name your Stand before we leave!” He pointed at the creature that stared at him with its big eyes (it needs brown contacts or something).
“A name?” She looked at it. “Hm… you're right.” She gave it a pat before nodding. “Weird Science!” Abbacchio nodded, it was a fitting name. The Stand seemed to enjoy it as well, letting out a seemingly content ‘Choopapoo’.
They talked for a bit longer, before the three of them knew that it was time to bid each other goodbye. His mother walked them to the front of the facility and hugged him before hugging Bucciarati. It was funny to see them hug, considering his mother was even taller than Abbacchio at 194 centimeters. She smiled at him, “It was lovely to meet you, Bruno.”
“And you as well, Mrs. Rochelle. I hope you get along with your… ”
“Stand.” Abbacchio helped him out with the French.
“Your Stand. If you need assistance with anything,” He wrote his number down on a slip of paper, “Don't hesitate to call either of us.”
She smiled, and hugged him again. “You're far too kind.” She looked to her son, “You picked a great one.” Abbacchio didn't say anything, just sharing a slight smile with his partner before his mom hugged him tightly once again. “Visit me more.”
“Aren't you going to say something nice to me, too?”
“You haven't lost your hair. Good job.”
“Alright I'm going home.” He wiggled out of her grasp, but held her hand.
“I'm so proud of the man that you are now, and I want to keep seeing you grow more and more. Even when I lose my mind, keep telling me things, okay? It can't just be me and Weird Science forever.”
“I will, I promise.”
“And bring me my grandkids! I have to show them your baby pictures.”
Abbacchio groaned while Bruno laughed at him. “No you do not! ” He gave her a peck on the cheek, and took his boyfriend's hand. “Okay love you, see you soon.” They waved to her, and left out the door.
“She was lovely,” Bruno stated, “I'm glad you let me meet her.”
“I always planned on it, I just could never find the time. And I couldn't… I didn't want her to see me the way I was back then. You know the work in progress that I am, and how bad past me was.”
Bucciarati smiled at him as they got in the car. “But now, you're a much better you.” For once, Abbacchio could agree with a compliment about his character (he's getting better at taking those). “Was she serious about meeting the others?”
“Assume everything she says is something she means, it makes everything a lot easier to take her seriously and then figure the rest out.” They pulled out and headed towards the other side of Napoli (by the time she needed to be moved here, Abbacchio had already joined Passione and didn't want to risk anything happening to her. Granted, now that they literally run Passione it doesn't matter) and asked Bucciarati a question. “What about your mom?”
“Eh. She knows I'm alive so that's fine.”
Abbacchio read him like a book. “Don't ‘eh’ me. Would she not want to see you?”
“Truthfully?”
“Truthfully.”
“If I showed up at her door, she would probably never let me go.”
“Then why not…?”
Bucciarati sighed as they came to a red light. He looked over at Abbacchio for a few moments. “She is not in a similar situation as Mrs. Rochelle. She's up in Milano, a place where we have no control, and where I have a reputation. If she lived in a small town, then it would be different. But she was always one for the city lights.” Right, Passione doesn't have any real power in the north. For now at least, Giorno has been planning to expand of course.
“And if I go there, and some plain clothes mafioso notices me with my mother and I don't notice them, I've thrown her life away. And knowing her, she would take the risk because that lady loves me. But I can't let her do that.” He shook his head. “She has twins now. They're three, just babies. If I'm the reason my siblings lives get cut short-” He stopped himself, but he didn't need to finish. “I still send her money even though I know she doesn't need it. It's just a way to let her know that I'm okay.”
They stayed silent for a while. “When was the last time-”
“I was sixteen.”
“If she comes down here for one reason or another, you should visit her. Even if she's safest up north, you make it sound like one of these days she will come down and find you.”
Bucciarati chuckled. “She would if she had time, but she's a businesswoman and a mom. Your mom was a doctor, so I know you also know how difficult that is.”
“Can I know what she's like?”
“Forward, but kind. She's the type of woman to do anything to reach her dreams, even move across the country. I'm proud of her- is it weird to say that as her kid?”
Abbacchio remembered crying his eyes out when his mom walked across the stage. “No, not at all.”
They returned to their house, where Abbacchio could hear music playing from outside, Narancia and Giorno must be outside gardening again.
“Maybe I will visit her one of these days,” Bucciarati waved to Trish in the window, “assuming she actually does try to track me down and ends up here or in our territory. After all, I almost died once. Who knows what else might happen. I don't want any regrets.”
They walked into the house, where Trish was reading a book. “So where did you guys end up going?”
“Just to visit someone.” Abbacchio answered.
Someone that hopefully his girl would get to meet soon.